


What To Expect

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Expectations [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective





	1. Chapter 1

The drive from Nantes Atlantique to the little cottage was a fraught one, with his parents there-- his mum chatting merrily if sleepily away in the front seat, his dad in the back, leaning on one of the suitcases and making a few conversational sounds when called on to do so.

The Sniper just drove, hands gripping the wheel, and promised he'd explain everything when they got there, and no, the trip wasn't the surprise. 

His mum had always wanted to visit France, was shocked that there was any more to it than that, when flying them out had already verged on too much. His dad only said at least it wasn't the busiest season, and he was sure he could trust the hired jackaroos a while, but how long was this stay going to be?

He left the city, passed the last hotel, passed miles of countryside, a dairy, a winery, more open fields, before he finally pulled up to his own property.

"Is this the B and B? It looks nice and quiet out here." His mum observed, turning back to her husband. "Expect you'll like that."

"It's my house." The Sniper admitted, almost too softly. "I, er, retired. From that job you didn't care for."

She hugged him, his old man grunting approval as he dragged the suitcases out. 

"Dunno why you thought you had to retire out to France, dunno what you'll do here, but all right. Good on ya and all that, getting out of that nasty business."

"Yeah, well... More surprises inside." He rubbed the back of his neck. 

"I can't believe it, this lovely place is yours? It's very nice dear, but isn't it big for you? Don't think you'll have much luck trying to convince your father to retire out here-- that man'll drop dead working his station!-- but it's-- Well, it's very nice. So far from everything, though, innit?"

He grabbed one of the suitcases, didn't fight his father for the other. "Well. It won't be too big. The, erm, the real surprise, is--"

The real surprise opened the door, while he was still hemming and hawing in the front walk, radiant in a short shirtshift dress and loose curls tied back with a narrow silk scarf. She greeted him warmly, kissing both cheeks before offering the surprised older couple a hesitant smile.

"Did you not mention me yet?" She whispered.

"I was getting to that." The Sniper shrugged. "Mum, Dad... Marie. My wife."

He wasn't used to introducing her as either-- it had been a hasty elopement, and then it was just them and the house, once they bought it, until he could arrange to bring his folks out. She'd been Spy so long before that that he hardly even thought of her by name. His parents both gaped, his father slapping his back wordlessly in bewildered congratulations, his mother demanding to know how he'd kept something so monumental a secret.

"I mean, you could have told your mother! You could have had us to the wedding!"

"Not a secret, a... a surprise. And there wasn't one, just a quickie with the justice of the peace, before I followed her home. We met in America. I was working, and... We, uh..."

"Spent some time together in town?" The Spy took his arm. "Bring your parents inside, cher, don't be rude. Monsieur, Madame--"

"You'll call me Mum." She insisted. "It's a lovely house you have, dear, I was just admiring it from the outside. So you finally talked my son into settling down?"

"We talked each other into it." The Spy laughed, before leveling an accusing stare up at her husband. "And I suppose you didn't tell them the rest, either?"

"Maybe everyone should sit down for the rest." He mumbled, bringing the suitcases over to the staircase, while the Spy ushered his parents into the living room, and the cushy white sofa that faced a rugged fireplace, dominating the room. 

She perched herself at one side, facing the inlaws with another nervous smile, her hands folded in her lap, waiting until the Sniper rejoined them, sitting on the very edge of a nearby chair. 

"Baby." He blurted. "Pregnant I mean. She is. With a baby. Well, yeah, of course. Mine, that is. Of course it is. We're married. And, baby. We'll have one."

His mother was overjoyed, at least. "Gram." She insisted. "You'll call me Gram. I can't wait to call the neighbours-- they do ask after you, sometimes. We never know what to tell them, except you travel a lot."

"And which happened first?" His dad teased, receiving a sharp jab to the ribs. "Was only asking. Plenty of modern, practical women wait for the engagement instead of the honeymoon."

"It still isn't nice asking. Of course they only just found out about it, look at the dear, you can't tell."

"Well... I mean, we found out about it, but..." The Sniper squirmed.

"Didn't want to break news like that over the telephone." The Spy cut in smoothly. "Not when he wanted to bring you to see the house anyway. But, it must have been such a long flight, you should have a rest before dinner, we can do a full tour later. Cher, why don't you show them the guest suite now?"

"Right." It sounded like a good idea. They'd been on airplanes-- or waiting for them-- the past full twenty four hours, and there was time enough for the two of them to have a good long nap before dinner. Time the Sniper could use to get used to the idea of his parents being there at all.

Well, he'd known he'd have to tell them eventually. It was easier doing it in person, his mum would have thrown a fit if he'd tried to make the announcement over the phone.

Of course, she'd likely pitch one anyway, once she found out his wife was three months pregnant before he managed to tell her, but he could find a way to explain that. They'd needed to get the house, fix up the guest room, all of that. He managed to carry both their bags up the stairs without his dad raising a fuss-- either he'd finally given in to jet lag, or he was too surprised by the developments to bother insisting he could do it himself.

"Bath's through there," He pointed it out, a tranquil little room that, like the guest bedroom, got a fair amount of afternoon sun coming through too-sheer curtains. "Hope it's not too bright in here."

"Ah, after all day flying, nothing's too anything. Can't sleep on planes." His dad shrugged. "Can't trust 'em not to fall, minute you close your eyes."

"Your father's ridiculous." His mum shook her head, yawning. "The flight was comfortable, very nice. Never have flown before, but it was lovely. Oh... wouldn't mind just a little nap, though."

"Right. I'll come, er, come knock on the door about suppertime. Be chicken fricasee, probably."

"That sounds lovely dear." She tugged him down into a firm hug, kissing his cheek. "And congratulations. It's about time you found a nice girl."

His father shrugged and nodded along, and the Sniper was oddly calmed by the realization that they both felt equally awkward. Without the job coming between them, there was no argument, but it had been a wedge so long that they were practically strangers now... 

Well, they had as long as they liked to stay. Maybe he'd make up with the old man before sending them back home.


	2. Chapter 2

"When's the baby due, then?" 

"October." She smiled at the Sniper's mother, hand moving to rest over her front as she carried the bread to the table. 

"October?"

The Sniper winced, watching her do some mental math. He attempted a smile anyway, bringing in the chicken. "Yeah, well-- it's late in October."

"And just how long have you been married without telling your own mother?"

"Only the three months, mum--"

"Oh, only three months!"

"I told you, I wanted to tell you in person, and it was such a sudden thing, and then--"

"And then they had a honeymoon, and got a house, and time got away from the boy." His father laughed. "Thought you'd be glad, that's three months you won't have to wait. Hell, he should've flown us out in October and you'd be happy the second he plunked the baby in your lap!"

"He wasn't going to go almost a whole year not telling us he was married." She tsked, smacking her husband's arm. "The chicken smells lovely, dear."

"Your son helped." The Spy beamed. 

"Yeah, yeah, she's civilizing me." He rubbed the back of his neck, flushing. It was still awkward, having his parents there, but they took to the Spy easily-- well, they didn't know she was a spy, of course, or that she had ever been paid to kill him. 

In bed, with his arm around her, with his nose buried in her hair and his hand spreading over her abdomen, he still called her 'Spook' as often as he called her 'Marie'. It was fitting enough-- she'd called the baby a birthday present, was a late October birth herself. His was coming up in May, along with the date that was no longer their anniversary, not now that they had a proper one... But the first time she'd kissed him, he knew it was May, because he'd thought of that as a birthday present as well, even though at the time she hadn't known when his birthday was... 

Late October. A little baby Spook. He let the dinner table conversation flow past him, lost in thought. They didn't know boy or girl, she wanted to be surprised, said she never got the luxury of surprises as a spy and wanted this one. Which was fine, of course, he didn't need to know until it showed up. She was doing the nursery in cream and pale green, and he would paint the crib to match, once it was built. Would it have her eyes, or her curls? Her smile? Or his... he thought she had the better features, between them, but he was looking forward, to seeing something of himself in the kid as well. 

He cleared the table after eating, while she started the tour, showing his parents the little screened-in porch with the view, perfect for taking coffee in the morning. He planned on doing some more building, outside, once the nursery was done. His first priority had been on fixing up the house itself, though there hadn't been many jobs that needed doing, nothing that kept them from moving in once it was bought. They were working on the nursery, in preparation for the baby, her efforts on nesting, on paint colours and fabrics and layette sets and cuddly toys, his efforts on building the crib, on moving the changing table up the stairs, and on knitting little hats and mitts and booties. 

Once they were all prepared for the baby, though, he wanted to lay some brick, build a nice barbecue just outside. The kitchen was nice and all, but it was such a shame to do all the cooking indoors, especially with the summer coming on, and she'd promised it would be pleasant and mild... He wanted to build a chicken coop, as well, keep some chickens. Put in a garden, as well, once he could set up a fence for it. He liked the idea of being as self-sufficient as they could be, and it would be good for the kid, he thought, to have some responsibilities, and to have fresh food they'd grown themselves. 

He pointed out where everything would go, when he joined the tour in the little sun room, gladder than he would have admitted at his parents' approval, and just a little dizzy-- just a little, every time!-- at the way his Spy looked up at him, all adoration... 

"It will be nice, having fresh eggs... and fresh vegetables." She leaned against him. "Coq au vin, whenever one of the birds gets too old."

"Glad you'll have something to do, in your retirement." His father nodded. "Good to keep busy."

"Come and see the nursery so far," The Spy looped her arm through her father-in-law's, with a warm smile. "It's still mostly empty, he's building the crib himself, but you can come take a look."

The Sniper chuckled, recognizing his father's charmed and surprised expression as one he must have worn a thousand times since meeting the Spy. His mother held him back a moment, as the Spy led his father up to the nursery. 

"He means it, you know." She said. "I mean, he's not just happy that you're keeping busy, he's happy for you. But you know your father."

"Yeah." He nodded. He hardly knew if he knew his father, hadn't felt like they really knew each other since he was a kid, but he knew what she meant, all the same. 

"He's proud of you. Leaving that job, starting a family. He never would have admitted to worrying, but he always did."

"I remember he worried I killed JFK." The Sniper rolled his eyes. 

"Oh, now, of course he didn't, dear. I don't think your father cared enough about international politics to think about that. But he worried you'd make enemies, or go to prison, or make enemies in prison."

"Haven't got any enemies, Mum."

"Well, good, because he's not the only one who did."

"C'mon, let's catch up. You'll like the nursery."

She did-- he was gratified by the admiring coos, especially over the bits of work he had done. There was a thick, soft rug, cream and wooly, over the bright polished hardwood floor, and the walls were pale sage. The window looked out on the little dirt road that led up to the front of the house, and the wildflowers out beyond, framed with curtains printed in yellow roses, and there was a little mobile hanging over the spot where he would move the crib, once it was built. Sheep, which gave his mother a chuckle. His father had probably approved as well, he reasoned. 

"He used to have one just like it." She told the Spy, and he felt his face heat as the two women shared an almost conspiratorial little laugh. 

"You're lucky she didn't know you'd have a wife, or she'd have brought the baby pictures." His father remarked. 

"Realizing that."

"It's a fine house, son."

"Thanks."

"Be a good place for a kid to grow up."

"Yeah. Yeah, think it will."

"Should come out to visit the station come Christmas. That's not too soon to travel, is it? Well... next Christmas, if it is."

"You just want to put me to work." He joked.

"Damn right I do. But... it'd be nice to have you home for the holidays, what with the grandbaby and all."

"If she doesn't want to travel this first year, we could fly you back out."

"I don't know... hard to get away when the sheep all need shearing."

"Dad, it's Christmas. Just... shear 'em before you come out for a couple days, or... or after, if it's too early. You can swing a couple of days for Christmas."

"Well. For the baby's first Christmas, sure, sure we can. But you'll come out to see us, when the kid's older."

"Yeah." The Sniper smiled. He pictured a little kid-- some moments he saw a boy, some moments a girl, mostly just some indistinct little thing in overalls, dark curls around its ears, just old enough to run a bit, chasing after the sheepdogs, or the sheep themselves, eyes wide with wonder. "Course we will."

The tour continued, ending back in front of the empty fireplace with coffee and the last of the bread, with thick preserves spooned out, and the Sniper left the women inside, taking his father out to the garage, where he had a little woodworking shop set up, the in-progress crib held in clamps.

"It's supposed to be terrifying, kids, isn't it?" He asked, staring at the crib.

"Sure." His father nodded. "Meant to scare the bloody hell out of you to make you grow up."

"Dunno what I'm doing."

"No one does. I didn't. You... turned out all right, in the end. Strayed a bit, but, well... here you are. Scared to hell and grown up."

He laughed, surprise colouring the sound. "Reckon. I keep wondering... what's harder, boys or girls? I don't know the first thing about a little girl, and I think... I think, I'd worry so much, about her. She'd be beautiful, like her mother, and I'd be so worried. And I'd be so useless. Daughters must be harder."

"Dunno. I think... I think it's a different kind of hard, for daughters and sons. Not that I've ever had daughters, but... You still worry, about a boy. You worry about different things. You worry about what new way he'll invent for breaking his arm, you worry about whether he'll drive safe when you give him the car, you worry... about what if someone goes and starts a war while he's in the service. You worry about what you'll tell him when it's his turn to have a kid of his own, and you start to realize he's a man now and you still don't know the first bloody thing about how to raise a kid, even after you've done it."

"Damn."

"Yeah, well. At least I never had to worry about you being pretty."

The Sniper laughed again, until the two men were leaning against each other, both shaking from it, hands on their knees. 

"No, never had to worry about that." He agreed. 

"Aw, he'll be right. He'll be a Mundy. And if he is a girl, well... when boys come to pick her up, you answer the door cleaning one of those bloody rifles of yours and she'll be fine, too."

"Thanks, Dad."


End file.
